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“Her heart began to pound a little harder with the boldness of what she was about to say. "You'll sleep badly in the chair, Kit. Would you like to sleep next to me? I promise not to thrash about." She tried to make her words light. Tried to make them sound like a practical suggestion, and less like the wanton invitation they disguised. There was a long quiet so thick Susannah could have grabbed fistfuls of it. "No, Susannah. I will sleep even more badly next to you." His voice was night itself: ironic, dense with meaning, a little dangerous. He might as well have slipped a hand beneath her nightdress for how it made her feel.” — Julie Anne Long
Her heart began to pound a little harder with the boldness of what she was about to say. "You'll sleep badly in the chair, Kit. Would you like to sleep next to me? I promise not to thrash about."
She tried to make her words light. Tried to make them sound like a practical suggestion, and less like the wanton invitation they disguised.
There was a long quiet so thick Susannah could have grabbed fistfuls of it.
"No, Susannah. I will sleep even more badly next to you."
His voice was night itself: ironic, dense with meaning, a little dangerous. He might as well have slipped a hand beneath her nightdress for how it made her feel.